


The trial

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 12:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30055734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: John Tiptofts trial by the Earl of Oxford





	The trial

October 1470

“You’ll reconsider.” Warwick barked, emotion taking over him despite what everyone knew was against his better judgement. 

“I will not.” John de Vere, Earl of Oxford snapped. “You gave me the authority because you could not face it yourself. Don’t think me stupid. I know why you didn’t want to. Well? I’ll be honest? I will take glee from this.” 

“You sick bastard.” Warwick barked. “You shouldn’t!”

“Oh please, you’re about to say I shouldn’t take joy in the death of another. Well what of one who takes sadistic joy in his own acts of... violent murder?” 

“Murder?” John Neville and Warwick mused at once. 

Oxford closed his eyes, clenched his hands and slammed his fists onto the table as he stood. “I’ll not reconsider.” He shouted behind him as he left the room.

** 

February 1462

“Silence!” Worcester shouted. “I’ll have silence God damn it!” 

John de Vere was nineteen. Only nineteen and yet he fell silent. It was he who had been objecting to the sham that was this trial. Worcester held his eyes firm on young John. “You can’t do this.” Vere muttered almost silently. 

“Shut up.” Worcester barked. “Or I myself will pick you up and throw your arse out of this room. If it were my decision you’d be here facing charges too, now shut up.” 

Vere gulped, seeing the look on his brother’s. Aubrey had a hand for violence and so desperately wanted in that moment to break his bonds and snap Worcester’s neck. Was it not enough that John’s father, the once Earl of a Oxford before the Usurper stole his titles, was ill, gravely ill and still he would face this humiliation. 

“So. Now we have silence shall we continue. My lord Hastings?” He listened as the chamberlain of this cursed regime spoke. Who did Edward of York think he was? How hand England been so easily corrupted by him. He was no king and... 

His thoughts trailed off. “Very well.” Worcester said. “As no one will stand in defence of these men...”

“Because you won’t let them!” Young de Vere spoke again. He was not told to be silent this time. Instead Worcester continued. He would not remove him now. No, his punishment would be to hear his words 

Hear his words 

“John de Vere, Aubrey de Vere. You’re both guilty of high treason. As decided today by this court.”

“You were one of us.” John’s father spoke. “You disgust me.” 

Worcester smirked, continued as though nothing had been said. “I sentence you both to death by beheading.” 

**

October 1470

Oxford woke up with a shriek. Sweat dripped off his forehead. He had seen that blade fall twice that day and still it haunted him. He was no stranger to executions, but his family? 

He wiped his forehead. Clicked his fingers for a servant to help him dress. He was prepared for this. 

It was noon by the time he reached the Tower. “John, I’m sorry.” Warwick said to him. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Beg? On behalf of a traitor? I thought you’d seen the light, Richard.” He shrugged. “I was clearly wrong.” He hurried up the steps to the White Tower. They had decided to hold trial here, for security. This man was all knew, dangerous and hated.

They could not afford for him to escape only to be ripped to shreds by the public. No. 

The room was filled with voices. Worcester stood, hands chained. “Shut up!” Oxford barked as he walked across the room. “Why is he bound?”

“He tried to punch his guards this morning, my lord.”

“Very well.” Oxford shrugged, continued as Warwick opened his mouth. He wouldn’t let this man’s leniency ruin them. “Let’s get on with this. As I assume there is no defence prepared?” He looked at Worcester who shook his head. He would not defend himself, would not say a word. “Excellent.” His tone said he would not hear it anyway. 

He watched, barely listening as those who wished to testify against him, those many, spoke. He had made up his mind. Worcester was dead. That was simple. 

When the room fell silent he spoke. “So, we have heard the evidence. And what says the jury?”

He was not surprised. So very unsurprised when the verdict came back guilty. The jury had been selected by him, designed of men who would not question Worcester’s guilt. 

“Very well, John Tiptoft, you have been found of the charge of High Treason. You shall be taken from here and in two days you shall walk London, and return to Tower Hill where you will be executed by beheading.” 

Worcester said not a word, nothing showed on the man’s face. 

Why could he not have that satisfaction? Of seeing his scared? 

Oxford stood, approaching him as the room jeered. 

Above the sounds of shouts and cheers Oxford whispered to Tiptoft.

“It would be justice in truth to have your son in the room.” 

He got his reaction then. Oh he got his reaction.


End file.
